In Sickness and In Health
by Vecturist
Summary: Written for linziday for the 2008 Secret Santa in the sheppard-hc lj community. A tag to "The Shrine" - all those late nights, worry and stress took their toll - a day in the life of Sheppard being sick.


I owe a huge debt to Kristen999 for betaing.

Sheppard headed towards the Atlantis infirmary, regretting his early morning run with Ronon and trying to reassure himself that a few Tylenol washed down with a cup or two of coffee would chase away the soreness and stiff joints from breaking in the newest batch of marines from the _Daedalu_s. Really, it was all a result of pushing himself a little too hard. Now if he could just find one of the newest nurses…

"Colonel, what brings you into the infirmary," queried a distinctive brogue near the entrance.

"Nice to see you back, doc," answered Sheppard after a moment's pause. "How was Scotland?" Somehow his brain had failed to process that the physician would also be returning on the _Daedalus_, and he hoped his momentary flash of guilt didn't register.

"I don't think you were dropping by just to say hello," scolded Dr. Beckett. "Now out with it," but his words were at odds with the grin on his face.

"Just a little sore, doc. Some of the new marines think they know everything and had to be shown that they don't. Nothing a couple painkillers won't fix," answered the colonel, going for a partial truth. Somehow he knew it might be more than just a few sore muscles, but he forced himself to meet the physician's gaze.

"Right. You and Ronon had to put the new recruits through their paces and as commander of Atlantis, you had your pride to uphold. I think I remember why Dr. Keller was wise to request the next few days off." Carson put down the bottles he had been checking and his face grew more serious. "As I'm sure you're well aware, I heard about Rodney while I was the _Daedalus_, Colonel. I wish I could have been here. Even if I might have been too emotionally involved to his physician, I felt as useful as a box of hair on board that ship, not able to do anything, not even be here as a friend. If you hadn't taken Rodney to the shrine, and Jeannie and Dr. Keller hadn't…," the Scotsman trailed off as he appeared to rummage in a nearby cabinet for the requested drugs. Colonel Sheppard mentally kicked himself for forgetting how close Carson and Rodney had been, or should he say, still were. His self-recrimination, however, was suddenly interrupted when he found himself with a thermometer in his ear instead of a handful of pills.

"Doc!" He squawked at the sudden violation of personal space and plastic intrusion in his ear and tried to squirm away. A firm hand on his shoulder kept him where he was, however.

"Hmm," commented Carson after a moment when the thermometer finally beeped. "A little elevated. Have a seat on a bed, Colonel."

"Carson, it's nothing. I'm fine. Just a few pulled muscles," Sheppard protested, trying for a combination of puppy-dog eyed persuasion and 'I'm in command.'

"Colonel Sheppard, I can see the bags under your eyes from the other side of the room. I read the reports – all those late nights keeping watch, not eating enough and the stress of watching a close friend suffer probably his worst fear, not to mention hanging out and drinking on the pier barefoot without a coat," he paused at his patient's glare. "All right, maybe the last one's something a mum would say, but my point is an abundance of stress without taking care of yourself is going to leave your immune system weakened and you susceptible to whatever bug is going right now. I need to draw some blood and finish my exam, but I suspect you're coming down with something. And don't roll your eyes at me, we both know I'm right," the Scotsman added over his shoulder as he turned to get a few items.

Sheppard just sighed and hoisted himself onto the bed, idly swinging his legs. "Do I get a lollipop if I'm good?" He couldn't resist adding.

Carson just 'tskked' as he set down the tray of supplies. "I think I'd need a separate supply just for you and your team," he sighed. "Although your definition of 'good' and mine appear to be vastly different – leaving against medical advice, not following doctor's order, making countless jokes about sheep and voodoo," the physician sighed again. "On that note, Rodney's latest follow-up exam was fine, although it seems you and Keller have given him some new ammunition for his belief that medicine is not a science. Something about 'do it yourself brain surgery' and 'the handyman special?' I realize the seriousness of the situation, but the look on his face when you pulled out a drill and proposed surgery must have been priceless. Of course I may have thrown a bit of fuel on the fire when I pointed out trepanation has been used for centuries for various reasons, both medical and mystical." Carson grinned as he finished the blood draw. "It'll take a little while to run the labwork, but I have a pretty good idea what the results will be. Make yourself comfortable, Colonel," he instructed as he headed toward the lab portion of the infirmary. "That doesn't mean sneak out," he added after a moment. "Do I have to get Mikhail to keep an eye on you?" The colonel flinched slightly at the mention of the Russian medic. – the Wraith might actually be afraid of the man.

Just when he thought about making a break for it, nevermind the fallout from the Russian threat, Carson reappeared.

"It's as I suspected, Colonel. You've got a wee fever and the beginnings of a cold. I'd like to keep you here for the day as a precautionary measure, make sure you don't overdo things, and give your body a small head start on beating this. Knowing you, I should be preparing for a worst –case scenario, but I'll keep my fingers crossed we don't get to that point. Besides, you can have Major Lorne bring your laptop and get caught up on paperwork, leaving the good major and Ronon to deal with all your new marines."

"Aww, Doc," Sheppard's protest climbed slightly in volume as he caught a glimpse of the IV bag the Scotsman was holding.

"Consider it a small insurance policy to keep you here. It's just a normal saline and glucose solution, which can't hurt."

The colonel sighed, but held his arm out for the Dr. Beckett to insert the needle, tapping his radio with his free hand and informing Major Lorne he'd be working out of the infirmary for the remainder of the day.

Three hours later, Sheppard had just about had enough of supply reports, personnel files and routine paperwork that never seemed to end. If he'd had the twinges of a headache when he entered the infirmary, it was certainly making itself known now. He was tempted to shut down all his documents and pull up solitaire or minesweeper when McKay stomped in.

"Hello, I just got speared by a chunk of wood from one of the packing crates. Who uses wood anymore? Don't they know what potential fungal and microbial pathogens could be lurking when the morons in my lab can't interpret 'This end up' and I have to do it myself? I mean what's wrong with a nice safe, plastic container?"

"Good morning to you to, Rodney, called out Carson, finally emerging from his office. "Let me take a look at that hand," he quickly added, before the physicist could begin his tirade again. Dr. Beckett deftly maneuvered Rodney to an empty bed before rolling a stool over along with a high-powered light. "Well, Rodney, looks like a wee splinter here. I can try and grab it with a pair of forceps and then irrigate the area with some saline," began the physician before he was quickly interrupted.

"A wee splinter?!" repeated Dr. McKay, imitating his friend's brogue as best he could. "Like the Nobel Prize is just a nice line on a CV? I could be getting gangrene here, Carson, or any number of nasty infections!"

"Very well, Rodney, when was your last tetanus shot?" Carson asked calmly as he grabbed Dr. McKay's hand, stilling it for a moment while he deftly unwrapped a pair of forceps and a scalpel from their autoclave packaging.

"Uh, maybe you're right Carson, it's not that big," stammered the physicist as Dr. Beckett maneuvered the offending piece of wood out of his hand.

Of course, Sheppard had a front row seat and couldn't help laughing at the faces McKay made as the physician removed the splinter – cartoon characters had nothing on him.

"What? Go ahead, make fun of the injured man," started McKay as he tried to find the source of the laughter. "I'll have you know… Hey," the last comment came out in a slightly higher pitch as Carson took advantage of the distraction to pull the splinter free, irrigate the area, and stick as small bandage on. "What's Colonel Bedhead in here for?" he asked eyeing the IV suspiciously.

"The colonel has the start of a cold. The IV is just to give his body a boost and to get him to take it easy," responded the physician, gathering the debris from the splinter-ectomy.

"Sheppard has a cold? Are you sure you shouldn't be putting him in isolation? What about the rest of us?" demanded Rodney, crossing his arms.

"Rodney, he's just a bit run down from stress and a little more susceptible to viruses than usual right now."

"Stress, run down, well, maybe like chased down. I think Dr. Kiang in astrobiology has been trying to flirt with him," came the snarky response. "If you're going to date a scientist, could you at least find one in mathematics, or a real science?"

"Rodney," Carson scolded in the patient but frustrated tone usually employed by teachers when a student was eating paste. "Colonel Sheppard has had a lot of late nights,"

"Trying to get caught up on paperwork and mission reports," Sheppard finished, shooting a warning look at Dr. Beckett. "You know how Woolsey is a stickler for deadlines and paper-pushing."

"Yeah, the next thing you know, he's going to make Ronon write mission reports. That could prove to be interesting reading."

"Sort of the cliff notes version to yours, McKay."

"Oh, har, har. Mine are not long, I just feel it necessary to report all the details."

"Brevity is the soul of wit."

"Is that code for you being lazy or attempting to be clever? So is the sheep-shearer going to spring you anytime soon? There's a couple new devices your various goons have brought back with their missions. If you're not on-duty today, maybe you can swing by the lab and activate a few thing," McKay asked excitedly, his previous topic abandoned for the moment.

"I thought we just established that Colonel Sheppard is coming down with a cold and needs to relax and take it easy. Generally, activating Ancient devices is neither of those things, so I'm going to have to decline for the colonel," interjected Dr. Beckett. Before either man could protest, he added. "Now, Rodney, did we decide whether or not you needed a tetanus shot?"

"Uh, I've got a couple experiments running I really should get back to. I can't trust anyone, even Zelenka to handle all the analysis and delicate calibrations. Sheppard sneezing mucus all over some potentially important artifact? No thank you," Rodney threw over his shoulder as he hurried out of the infirmary.

Sheppard let out another chuckle as he watched his teammate's retreating back. "Thanks doc," he stated with a smile on his face, which quickly became a wince as he tried to shift to a different position.

"A few more aches, Colonel? Let me grab the thermometer and check your temperature again. I might even offer you the pain meds you originally came here seeking," Carson replied as he disposed of the last of the debris from removing McKay's splinter.

"I'm good, doc," Sheppard responded almost automatically, wincing once again in his attempt to find a comfortable position. "I just don't think these beds were meant for writing reports."

"Will you please tell Rodney that? I'm surprised he doesn't complain about his back with all the time he spends with his laptop here", Carson quipped as he located the thermometer.

"I think Rodney asking for his laptop and working is probably the least of a couple evils, or a sign he's on the road to recovery," Sheppard sighed as he opened up his own laptop once again to at least pretend to work.

Carson wasn't fooled by his sudden, renewed interest in paperwork, and Sheppard once again found himself with a thermometer in his ear. He sighed, it was better than one under the tongue, or worse. "So, Colonel, why did you interrupt when I was going to explain your cold to Rodney? There's no shame in what you did – how many times has Rodney sat by your bedside while you've recovered from surgery or illness? You've simply returned the favor."

"It's different Carson, from every other time." Sheppard shrugged and ran his hands through his hair. "It's just different, don't ask me to explain. Let's just say, I'm content to leave it at the few pieces McKay remembers from those days. I think he's still freaked by everything that happened. He doesn't need any more details." Sheppard knew he was a soldier, death was a constant companion, but he expected it to be quick, not some slow thief of memory, and worse, personality. McKay was probably his best friend and to watch him suffer; he suffered all the more, knowing there was nothing he could, nothing to fight against.

Carson nodded after a moment, then in an attempt to move to a lighter topic, asked, "So Dr. Kiang?"

Sheppard smiled a little guiltily. "I had to ask Lorne something – he was in the Jumper Bay with Parrish and Kiang. Parrish was busy explaining something to Lorne about how some plant here in Pegasus resembles something or other back on earth. I made the mistake of asking if there was any chance we'd see plants with pink leaves or some other bizarre color. Dr. Kiang now thinks I have enrolled in her 'botany for the non-science major' she must have taught at some point in her graduate school career. I think we're about a third of the way through the semester."

Now it was Carson's turn to laugh. "Well, if you're going to expand your education here in Atlantis, you've got some of the world's best teaching you. Let me know any time you want to add genetics to your class load. But enough already, I'll leave you to work paperwork."

Sheppard sighed once again, glaring at the IV bag, but noticed Carson had been true to his word and a glass of water as well as two painkillers sat on a nearby table. He just wasn't sure if it was a peace offering or an "I told you so." Still, he wasn't sure if he wanted to acknowledge the cold or the circumstances that led to it. He managed to lose himself in personnel and supply requisitions for the next _Daedalus_ supply run. He was so caught up ticking off the correct boxes and ignoring the increasing aches and slight chills that he didn't hear two of his teammates enter the infirmary a couple hours later.

"So, the voodoo priest still hasn't let you out?" asked Dr. McKay incredulously. "We were going to head to the mess hall for lunch, but I can see you're still stuck here, or more like tied down here," he added with a glance at the IV bag, now almost empty. The physicist came closer, then backed away almost immediately. "Whoa, do you know how warm you are right now? I mean I could use you as a space heater in the lab."

"Are you all right, Colonel?" Teyla asked.. "You do seem flushed," she commented after a moment of careful study.

Carson appeared within seconds of Teyla's comment and Colonel Sheppard found himself once again with a thermometer in his ear. "Well, your fever has spiked higher than I'd like, and given that you've drained most of a pitcher of water, keeping you here in the infirmary for another couple hours for observation would not be a bad idea," he stated as he frowned at the readout. Seeing Teyla's concerned look, Dr. Beckett added, "The colonel appears to have caught himself the common cold. It's nothing to be worried about, but given his track record, it never hurts to be a little bit cautious." Carson checked Colonel Sheppard's pulse, then reached for the IV, removing the bag.

"Uh, forgetting something, doc?" asked Sheppard, indicating the IV port.

"That will need to stay in for the time being. I know it's not that comfortable, but I'm sure you'll agree, it's probably better than trying to find the vein again later, if it comes to that. I'll let your team bring your lunch here. "

As Carson turned to say something to his team, Sheppard scooted off the bed and headed towards the bathroom, giving Carson a moment of panic until the physician saw where he was headed. As he was washing up, he couldn't help but notice how pale he was. "It was all worth it," he told himself. He'd put his life on the line for his team, more times than he could count. He could handle a fever and maybe the common cold. He splashed water on his face one last time, relishing the momentary coolness before heading back into the infirmary. Carson continued the rest of his exam, explaining that at least the colonel had minimum congestion, so hopefully he'd be spared worst of the sniffles.

"If I didn't know better, Colonel, I'd say you'd almost rather be recovering from something like a bullet wound, than a cold. Rodney's going to find out eventually."

"But you're not going to tell him," answered Colonel Sheppard quietly. "I'm just going to suffer here in silence," he added half-jokingly. Carson gave him a slightly quizzical look and seemed ready to press him further on the issue, but Rodney's return interrupted him.

"It's like a train-wreck in the mess hall. Apparently a couple of the marines introduced Ronon to hot dogs and then decided to challenge him to a hot-dog eating contest. I don't want to see the fall-out from that – Carson, do you hear that? Marines, Ronon, and hot dogs."

"Ah, Rodney, you're just upset you're not participating," Sheppard snarked, glancing over the tray that had been set down, relieved that there wasn't any of the food in question. "Either that or you'd be complaining about everything that's potentially in a hot dog and all the associated health risks of those fillers and preservatives."

Mmm…," mumbled McKay as he grabbed the fruit cup off his tray.

"Hey," Sheppard scolded, making a half-hearted attempt to grab it back. "Aren't you worried about my germs?"

"Protective seal," McKay snarked as he swiped a spoon. "Teyla said she'd be by in a little while. She wanted to check in with Kanaan and Torren and she wanted to pick up some tea for you. Something to ease your symptoms, I think was her comment." Both men ate in relative silence – McKay quickly finished off the fruit cup while Sheppard picked at the contents of his tray, finally eating most of a turkey sandwich half and part of an apple.

Seeing Rodney's look at the mostly full tray, he shrugged. "I guess I'm not that hungry. You know your taste buds change when you're sick."

"It does amaze me, we've split the atom, we figured out the Stargate, but we still can't cure the common cold," McKay said with a wry grin.

"Are you sure there's nothing in Atlantis' database," Sheppard joked, trying to hide a yawn, Suddenly he felt very tired, as if the events of the past week had caught up with him, along with the events of the past year. Still, tempting McKay to search through database was like waving a steak in front of a hungry Doberman.

"I hope I am not interrupting, I have brought some tea my people frequently use when we are feeling, how did Carson put it, 'under the weather.'" Teyla set a small clay pot down, along with a matching cup. "It should be done steeping now," she explained as she poured a cupful and handed it to him expectantly.

Sheppard accepted the cup and tentatively inhaled the steam, then took a sip. It wasn't as strong as the morning tea that had smoothed his introduction to the Athosians, but it still had quite a kick. Unfortunately his exhaustion still won out and he found his eyes sliding close, a discussion between Teyla and Rodney fading into a blur of white noise.

It was several hours later, judging by the length of the shadows from the light still streaming through the infirmary's couple windows. A quick glance at his watch only confirmed that he'd been asleep for nearly five hours. As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he thought to himself this one of the few times he'd argue against the notion of the recuperative power of sleep. His mouth seemed drier than the Sahara and the fever Carson had commented on earlier seemed to have climbed a few notches. As he pushed himself off the bed, he tried to stifle a small groan. The morning's aches seemed to have multiplied as well, and he could almost swear that his joints had decided to remind him of every rough landing he'd ever made since he'd started flying. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror revealed the only part of that didn't seem haggard was his hair, which appeared wilder than usual.

'Hey, my grandmother can shuffle faster than you," McKay smirked as Sheppard made his way back to the bed.

'Rodney," scolded Dr. Beckett as he nodded to the nurse finishing changing the sheets on the bed. "I don't think you can deny any longer that you're not coming down with something, Colonel." He conducted a quick assessment, then went to one of the cabinets along the wall, removing a couple of pre-filled syringes. "You fever has shot up higher than I'd like," he explained, emptying the first syringe into Sheppard's IV port. "I can give you something to try and bring the fever down, as well as ease some of the aches. While I know you'd like to be convalescing in your own quarters, I'd prefer to keep you under observation here, overnight, with the way this fever is behaving. If it breaks tomorrow, I'll let you recover in your quarters. The real danger should be over then." Carson turned with a sigh, anticipating the inevitable interruption. "Yes, Rodney, Colonel Sheppard only has a cold. I'm just being cautious."

Sheppard groaned a little at the prospect of spending the night in the infirmary. Right now he just wanted to curl up and sleep for a few days.

I'll have the mess hall send a tray. I'm guessing that you don't have much of an appetite, but try and eat something. And no, the old saying about 'starve a fever, feed a cold isn't true,'" Beckett finished.

Sheppard turned to McKay to try and change the subject. "So, still straightening up the labs and terrorizing minions?"

"Surprisingly, Radek did a pretty good job keeping everyone in line, although I'm not going to tell him that. There's even fresh coffee being made on a regular basis, and not the regular supply crap, this is coffee from someone's personal supply. Either I'm that intimidating to command that level of respect, or," Dr. McKay awkwardly trailed off for a moment, then tapped his radio. "Gotta go. Zelenka needs me to double-check some results. I'll stop by later for a game of chess, if your fever hasn't burned what few brain cells you have.

"You know where to find me," Sheppard quipped, promising himself he was just going to rest his eyes for a few minutes. When he opened them again, the first thing he noticed was the crick in his neck, followed by the fact that a couple hours, not minutes had passed. The rest of his team were gathered around his bed, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to look as if they hadn't been watching him sleep.

"It's not that bad," he rasped. Teyla handed a glass of water before he could say any more.

"You are sick, and Dr. Beckett is a little worried, so we are a little worried. It is only natural we would come and check on you. We did bring you dinner. Beckett suggested chicken soup might be good. I also brought some more tea to help with your fever," Teyla said.

Sheppard looked down at the tray Ronon had set down and noticed the bowl of hearty soup that looked nothing like their standard rations.

Teyla noticed his appraisal. "When we informed the mess hall staff of your illness, they said they would make some from scratch."

"Remember the poultry we traded for on our last mission, we figured they were close enough to chickens," Ronon added helpfully.

"It took them long enough to make it," complained Rodney. "What did they have to do, slaughter the chicken?"

"Yep," Ronon smirked, laughing at the face the physicist suddenly made.

"The chicken-things are really good. Very fresh," Colonel Sheppard added, prompting another grimace from Dr. McKay.

"Yes, I know it's the way things are here, but I prefer to not know when my meal clucked it's last," McKay supplied, seeing the looks on his teammates faces.

"Torren has begun to sit up and explore. I think he will be crawling soon, the way he keeps reaching for things that are just outside of his grasp," she said to change the subject, before her teammates could begin egging each other on. While Colonel Sheppard sipped at his soup and tea, Teyla shared a few other moments of Torren's latest adventures with her teammates, supplemented by other tidbits about the city's newest arrivals, including the Marines who had apparently heard Ronon was a pushover, a rumor spread no doubt by returning marines.

Sheppard soaked up all the news, filing away useful bits of information for later use. He tolerated another check by Dr. Beckett, but could see the concern in the man's face and knew his fever his climbed higher. As if in response to further confirmation his cold was progressing, the he could feel his eyelids sliding close despite his best efforts. A simple meal and conversation should not be so exhausting he thought.

Ronon must have noticed his attempts to fight off sleep and tossed a small bundle into his lap. "McKay said you'd probably be spending the night here, so I thought you'd probably be wanting these."

"Thanks big guy," Sheppard said, accepting the t-shirt and sweatpants. "I guess I could use some freshening up," he gestured, noticing the sweat stains of his BDU t-shirt. Despite the fever Carson was monitoring, he'd been buried under blankets since lunch and still didn't feel that warm. "I'll go change," he told the doc, heading to the bathroom before Carson could decide that scrubs were a better idea. When he came out, Carson was hanging another IV bag.

Carson seemed to notice his grimace. "I'm sorry Colonel, but with your fever it's the best option – keeping you hydrated is important with the way its is spiking. Fluids and sleep are critical to beating this bug. I guess it's good I didn't take the port out?" he asked apologetically as he flushed out the line and started a new drip.

Sheppard just buried himself under the blankets and tried to fall asleep. Sleep did come, albeit reluctantly, bringing with it a few nightmares and he found himself waking with a start and trying to untangle himself from the sheets.

"It is alright, Colonel," Teyla said getting up from a nearby chair. "Dr. Beckett said you may have some strange dreams because of your high fever."

"Strange isn't quite right. It was just the usual nightmares," Sheppard commented, accepting the washcloth Teyla handed him, enjoying the momentary coolness and relief it provided despite his shivering. Someday he would have to ask Carson why a body could be blazing hot while so freaking cold.

"Should I get someone? Do you need anything to help you sleep?"

"No I'm good," Sheppard gave Teyla his usual answer, hoping she didn't notice his shaking and attempt to burrow further under the covers. "I'm just trying to think of the last time I had a cold like this. I must have been pretty young if I can remember my mom keeping watch over me," he finished with a small grin, then looked at Teyla, blushing. "Sorry, I appreciate you being here, but you don't need to be," he added. "Shouldn't you be watching Torren? I don't want him to get my cold."

"It is no bother, Colonel. Kanaan is happy to watch Torren, particularly while he is napping. I spoke with Dr. Beckett and he is confident with some basic precautions Torren will remain healthy and free of your cold. Perhaps it would wise for you to imitate Torren and get some sleep," replied Teyla, noticing him start to relax as sleep overtook him once again despite his half-hearted attempt to stay awake. As he drifted off, he noticed her hand moving to her radio, but couldn't hear the words she spoke.

Sheppard started awake for the second time that night, jumping slightly at the hand on his shoulder and fighting to clear the last cobwebs of sleep. The hand pushed him back towards the bed. "Sleep, Sheppard," a quiet, familiar voice commanded and his sleep-addled brain attempted to obey. As he tried to get comfortable again, some small part of his brain registered that the usual infirmary blanket had been replaced by a quilt smelling faintly of tea and incense. '_Teyla_,' his brain supplied and small smile filtered across his face as he inhaled before darkness claimed him once again.

The scent still registered when he thrashed awake again in the throes of a fever, protesting the sudden cold that seemed to surround him. He tried to pull away, to find some patch of warmth, but the hands holding him stilled his motion, and for a moment he panicked, thinking _they _had decided to freeze him in a block of ice…

"Colonel, stop fighting us, I know it's painful, but we need to reduce your fever!"

"Can't you give him something?!" a panicked voice near his shoulder asked.

"Yes, Rodney, eventually. I need to assess his condition first, make sure there are no contraindications. Right now the best thing you can do is talk to him, try to calm him," came the terse reply. Other orders flew and footsteps raced around.

Somehow the sounds filtered down and Sheppard realized he was the subject of conversation among those standing above him. Cracking his eyes open, he tried to focus on the faces watching him. "Cold," he managed to croak out.

"I know Colonel. You feel like your freezing, but your fever is dangerously high. It needs to come down and fast. This is the easiest way to do it. Just bear with us for a little bit longer," the blur he decided was Carson explained.

As painful as it felt, Sheppard tried to control his shivering as cooling blankets were pulled tighter around him. Still a small part of his brain screamed at him to run, to flee, to escape the block of ice. Before he could really listen to that small insistent voice, a sudden rush of warmth began flowing through his veins, dragging him into a welcoming darkness. Twice more he awoke with a start, trying to thrash his way out of his icy mummification, feeling strong, but surprisingly gentle hands guide him back down onto the bed.

"Everything's fine, Sheppard. Let the doc do his work," a deep voice high above him rumbled, then added, "Don't worry, nothing will hurt you while I'm here."

The next time Sheppard woke up, surfacing like a seal among the ice floes, Teyla's blanket and its scents of tea and incense were among the first two items that registered. The second was a rapid-fire tapping, which Sheppard first thought was some deranged penguin until he focused on McKay in a nearby chair with his ever-present laptop.

"Hey," he croaked out, throat so parched that single word hurt and threatened a spasm of coughing. McKay was immediately out of his chair and grabbing a glass of water complete with a straw.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate ice chips after Carson tried to turn you into a human popsicle with all the cooing blankets. Your fever had everyone worried until early this morning when it finally broke, although I'm not sure if they were more worried about your fever or how you kep waking up and fighting," the physicist explained as he took the cup back.

"You were here?" asked Sheppard in a guarded tone, noticing how tired Dr. McKay looked. "You didn't have to be. It was only a fever, not the usual life-threatening gunshot or stab wound."

"Sheppard," there was a sudden serious note in McKay's voice. I don't remember much of the last couple weeks, just a couple bits and pieces here and there. I do, however, have a clear memory of panicking, racing through the halls and pounding on the door of your quarters in the middle of the night."

"McKay, I…"

" You were there for me, through all of it. You put me first, neglected your work, didn't sleep, probably didn't eat, knowing you. I'm the reason you're sick."

"Did Carson?"

"No I did not, Colonel," the man in question interrupted, and began his check of his patient's vitals. 'Fever's still down. I believe I can divest you of a few of these tubes and wires," Beckett added after a moment, already taking away the pulse-ox monitor. "You're still dehydrated, so the IV will stay and we'll be reminding you to drink plenty of fluids, but I'll leave you to your conversation." The physician threw a scolding glance at the colonel.

"Hello genius, remember? Seriously, not a huge deduction, even for someone like Zelenka. I don't know why you decide to play the tough guy and try and keep everyone's arm's length. No, don't try to explain, if I wanted a discourse on the whole lone wolf mentality, I'd talk to some psychologist, or maybe just watch Animal Planet."

Sheppard gave him a long look. "McKay, we've worked together for what, almost five years now. You know me," he began.

The physicist quickly interrupted him. "Yes, and sometimes I really wonder if you could have been Mensa. With all that we've been through, you'd think you could share a little. You know, in sickness and in health."

"McKay that's a wedding vow."

"Well, maybe our team needs a vow. Can you think of something better?"

"How about 'All for one, and one for all?'"

"Isn't that the three musketeers? There's four of us," smirked McKay.

"No, there were four musketeers after ---- joined. I paid attention in English lit," Sheppard finished triumphantly, which was ruined by a huge yawn.

"Get some sleep Sheppard. It's not a bad thing. I'll be here. Oh and you might want to sleep through the meal Ronon brings. Ronon decided to cook up the Satedan version of chicken soup. Apparently it's designed to burn the fever out of you – makes Tabasco sauce seem mild."

"Thanks, Rodney," Sheppard answered. "For being my friend," he added in a whisper.

A/N: I've taught 'Botany for Non-majors' – I think Dr. Kiang did too – at least that was my first thought when she was lecturing Sheppard in 'Remnants'

The chicken comment – happened to a friend of mine when he was dining in the Philipines.


End file.
